


Paint Us In Blood

by SanSese



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Angst, Gladiators, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots who made mistakes, M/M, Shenanigans at the Senate, Violence, political scheming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-07-06 14:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanSese/pseuds/SanSese
Summary: 90 AD. Rome. Kevin is a young senator, struggling to get his views approved by the Senate. His rival for the post of consul makes his life a living hell. With the other post already secured by the richest senator at the moment, Kevin has no time left to convince the others, who would report to the princeps, and ultimately choose him. Luckily, his best friend Chris knows how to unwind him. By attending a gladiator fight at the Coliseum.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this idea in my head for a while, but I decided to actually sit down and write it. I opted to maintain the characters actual names, I hope it's not a problem for you. (I mean, I could come up with Roman names for everyone, but it would confuse me and you more than anything.) Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think!

*

73 AD, shore of Antioch (Roman Syria)

The sun had almost set under the waves when Kevin saw it. The shore of Syria came slowly into view, the last red stripes of the sun painting the rocks in scarlet. The wind blew gently over his hair, making the kid shiver. Still, it was with sagged shoulders and a pout that he looked at their new destination. His father had insisted to bring the whole family to Antioch, where he would exercise his new position as Praetor of Roman Syria. Kevin had protested, not keen on leaving his calm life in Rome and all of his friends. Not that he had many, really, but who would care for the stray kitten he had been nourishing these last days? He felt his mother ruffle his hair. She was looking at the land quickly approaching. Her skin was tanner than when in Rome, the last few weeks spending on deck the cause of that. Unfortunately, Kevin had gotten red, and chose to hide in his makeshift "room". He looked up to his mother, melancholic. 

"Cheer up honey! I'm sure you will find plenty of friends to play with. Isn't the beach beautiful?"

Kevin shrugged. "I guess." 

The boy peered again towards the shore, seeing little dots running around in the sand. Those proved to be people, splashing through the waves. They seemed to stop when spotting the ship. The harbor was situated in the natural bay of the land, allowing the people close to the docks. They would accost any minute now, the servants on deck were already running around, preparing everything to be unloaded. 

"Look! They are waving at us!" 

His mother smiled at the people waiting on the shore, hands in the air. Kevin sighed. There really was no need for a reception. A flash of red suddenly caught his eye. That, and a dazzling smile that belonged to a kid his age, waving with both his hands at the ship. Kevin returned the smile without thinking, touched by the kid's enthusiasm. He quickly returned to his grumpy self when he found what he was doing. People sucked. Everything sucked and nothing, no one would change that.

*

90 AD, Domus Owensis, Rome

Kevin groaned, turning in his bed and sending the blanket he somehow had twisted in his fists towards the wall. Shuffling feet stopped at the entrance of his cubiculum, seemingly halted by his fit of anger. Documents were strung around the floor, an oil lamp still burning low. He had decided to take a break earlier this afternoon, but sleep had escaped him. Rubbing his eyes, he beckoned the servant to come in. Bayley pursed her lips, hesitating if she should say something about the state of her master's bedroom. The look of despair she saw in his eyes made her change her mind. Picking some rolls off the tiles, she then put them on the little desk, where a giant pile was threatening to fall.

"Yes, Bayley?" 

Kevin's voice was rough, as if he'd been crying, or screaming. Maybe both. Bayley sighed, but didn't comment further on her observations. 

"Your friend, Chris Jericho, is back from his military campaign. I thought you should know, as he will certainly come visit you." 

Her tone heavily implied that she had come to tell him to freshen up. All semblance of a 'master-servant' relationship hadn't last long in the Owens' household. Servants were considered part of the family, and treated as such. Bayley knew she would've gotten away with scolding the master of the house, but these last weeks had been so tiring for Kevin that she opted for a more soothing approach. At least, Kevin perked up at the name of his friend.

"Chris is back? Finally!"

A smile made its way on his lips, his forehead suddenly void of any worried lines. Kevin chuckled, shaking his head.

"Everything will be alright now. It has to be. Everyone listens to him. I'm saved!" 

Bayley didn't understand what Kevin was mumbling about, but he seemed genuinely happy and a million times better than the previous months. 

"I'll just let him in when he arrives, ok?"

Kevin quickly stood up, straightening his clothes. He began to gather the rest of the documents.

"Yes, thank you Bayley. Thank you so much."

Bayley nodded, not sure what she had done to deserve Kevin's gratefulness. Not that he wasn't kind to her, but his reaction seemed excessive. She shrugged and left for the culina.

*

Catching up with Chris lasted all evening and deep into the night. The two men were laying comfortably on the klinai, cups of wine empty. But they didn't need the alcohol to maintain a joyful and lively chat. Kevin was buzzing, feeling that all his problems would be resolved now that his best friend was back in town.

"Well, enough talking about me. You seem so happy to see me, while I'm flattered, I suspect another reason for your excitement. Tell me." 

Chris sat up straighter on his chair, ready to listen attentively to his friend. He knew about Kevin's rise in the Senate, and wondered if his unending ambition had led him to a higher challenge. Kevin licked his lips.

"I'm trying to be named consul next month."

Chris clapped his hands, a laugh echoing in the triclinium. He lifted his cup and took an imaginary sip.

"To your victory, then!"

Kevin hold up his hands, ears getting red by the minute.

"I'm not there yet, friend. I, uh, I'm far from it, to be honest. But now that you're back, I'm sure it'll get easier to convince the senators and the princeps. After all, your reputation needs no introduction."

Chris rolled his eyes in fake modesty, but Kevin was right. He had made a name for himself, and his recent military success was just another carving on his soon to be build statue. Tilting his head, pensive, he hummed.

"I can certainly help you, if it's my help you indeed seek. Who are the other candidates? I need to know who I have to intimidate."

Chris laughed. Just back in Rome and he was already thrown back in the political scheming of the Senate. It felt good to be home again. Kevin smiled too, relieved to see his friend accepting to help him. He would finally be able to throw away the papers that cluttered his desk, missives destined to the senators, in which he listed all the reasons why he should be named consul. All he missed to be named was a famous and respected friend by his side. He had the money, the family name, but not enough support of important people. That wouldn't be a problem now.

"One chair is already filled by Miz. He's the richest guy in the Senate, and everybody listens to him when he speaks. Everyone knows he will be named consul. The one that constantly tries to put me down in front of the senators is Braun Strowman. He doesn't have as much money as I have, no parents to be proud of, but he has the whole military shtick going on."

Kevin hold his arms up in the air, his voice dropping a few tones. 

"Hu hu, look at me, I'm the big bad Centurio who murdered innocent people because they dared to speak up for themselves, I deserve to be named consul!"

Kevin spat on the ground. He immediately felt guilty about it and took a little cloth to clean it up as much as possible. He then looked up at Chris, who had remained uncharacteristically silent. His friend was fidgeting on his klinè, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Chris?"

"I'm sorry Kevin, I won't be able to help you after all."

Chris bowed his head, not willing to see the disappointed look in his friend's eyes. Although, when he finally dared to look up again, it was another emotion displayed on Kevin's face. Something Chris had never seen before. Fear. His bottom lip quivered, gaze unfocused.

"What do you mean you can't help me?"

His voice was nothing but a whisper, hanging loudly in the room. Chris suddenly wished he had some wine to gulp down. 

"Look, Strowman knows what I did before I started making a name for myself. He has dirt on me. If I try to convince the senators, he won't hesitate to ruin my career. I can't let that happen."

Kevin frowned. 

"But letting him ruin mine is not a problem huh?"

Angry at this turn of events, Kevin got up and started to pace the room. Chris followed him with his eyes, not knowing what to say. He would love to help his friend, but his life, everything he had built to attain what he had now...he just couldn't throw it away. Not even for his best friend.

"I didn't say that! I can still help you, I don't know, there must be something I can do. Why don't you let this year slip by, and take your chance next year?"

Kevin stopped in his tracks, eyes wide.

"And let this, this monster taunt me for the rest of my life?"

He shook his head, shoulders sagging down as he leaned against the wall and let himself fall to the ground.

"This has become personal the minute he stepped into the Senate and demanded I moved seats because I supposedly sat on his. The second he had entered the Curia Julia, I knew I would be battling against him. You don't know the humiliation I suffered at this hands. If I give up, I must as well give up my political career and go fight with the lions at the Coliseum." 

Sobs were now raking through his body. He shielded his face in his hands, silently praying to the Gods. He didn't even know what to ask anymore. Strowman was all he could think about, every minute of each day. He was scared to go outside, as the Centurio always seemed to be where he wanted to go. The senators were so impressed by his military prowess they didn't even question his behavior towards Kevin. Only a few old friends of his father showed him some sympathy. Not enough. Chris came to sit next to Kevin, letting his friend cry until he couldn't anymore. The last words Kevin had said made him think. He could always try to cheer up his friend.

"I heard there's a new gladiator at the Ludus Magnus. A real showstopper. We could go watch a show at the Coliseum, what do you think? I know you love gladiator fights."

In fact, Kevin had been obsessed by gladiator fights all his life, or at least since Chris had known him. But he guessed that with the whole becoming a consul, he hadn't had the time nor envy to go watch some. Kevin sniffled.

"I have nothing left to lose so...why not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some info:  
> domus: house (for the rich)  
> cubiculum: bedroom  
> culina: kitchen  
> klinè, klinai: sitting chair  
> triclinium: dining room  
> Curia Julia: houses the Senate  
> Ludus Magnus: the biggest gladiator school in Rome, situated next to the Coliseum


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some glimpses of Sami! Please let me know what you think :3

75 AD, sand lot at the Villa Owensis, Antioch

"You're doing it wrong!"

"What? No, I know what I saw, they do it exactly like this!"

The redhead sat back on the sand, heavily panting after the exercise he had been doing. He stared up at his friend, who shook his head with vehemence. The two of them had been sparring since the morning, the sun beating down on their bare skins. The wooden sticks which they had used at first laid covered in the sand, almost hidden with all the grappling they had done. Sami had wanted to wrestle a bit, like he had seen the gladiators do at the little ludus further up town. Technically, no one was allowed to see the training, let alone two children, but Sami had found a second entrance and had convinced Kevin to come with him. Since then, the two friends practiced in the yard of the Owen's villa, trying to replicate the moves they had seen. They were careful to not being seen by Kevin's parents. 

"And I'm telling you you're still doing it wrong!" 

Kevin helped Sami to get up, huffing.

"Besides, arm drags won't help you in the arena. Not with the armor and the shield and the rest. You would get skinned alive before grabbing an arm."

Sami frowned. 

"But if I'm faster and lighter than my opponent? I'm sure I could take him down!"

Kevin rolled his eyes. Sami was a stubborn kid. The determination in his eyes was enough proof for Kevin to admit defeat in convincing him with words. But he could still show him that he was right. He picked up one of the sticks and adopted a fighting stance.

"Well, time to prove me wrong then. No stick for you, just your fancy theatrics you love so much."

Sami didn't need to be told twice. Kevin hadn't even moved the stick that he found himself somehow lifted in the air and then dumped on the ground, eating sand. A grinning Sami stood over him, a hand stretched towards him.

"You were saying?"

*

90 AD, Coliseum, Rome

Kevin whimpered. The tiger was trying to escape the net thrown by a condemned criminal. Clawing at the knots, the feline roared, keeping the man at bay. Kevin sagged in his chair, his head turned, refusing to watch any further. Chris was encouraging the prisoner, as was the whole attendance at the theater. Feeling his friend move around, he nudged Kevin with his elbow.

"Hey, what's up man? This is crazy shit! If he kills the tiger he walks free! Don't you find this a beautiful redemption story?" 

Kevin snorted. 

"Yeah, by killing an innocent animal!" 

Chris frowned. 

"But the man's life is more important, don't you think?" 

The tiger had managed to free itself, fangs bared and eyes squinted. The man hovering around him was losing precious time, as he staggered a few times, his legs barely holding him up. After being locked up for a few days, the strength he displayed at the beginning of the bout was rapidly leaving him. Kevin dared to take a peak, smiling slowly as the tide had turned in favor of the tiger. 

"Any life is important. The man has done something bad to be here, the tiger just happened to exist. So yes, I'm siding with the tiger." 

A satisfying crack resonated in the arena. The tiger had bitten the man's left leg, all the way through the bone. The crowd's disappointment was brief, as blood began to spurt out of the wound, coating the sand in red. Kevin grinned in satisfaction as the tiger was lead away. Two men ran towards the criminal, maybe hoping to save him. However, the blood loss had made it's thing, and the men dragged the limp body out of the area. Chris raised his brows. 

"It seems like the Gods heard you. You got what you wanted." 

Kevin grimaced. If the Gods really had heard him, he wouldn't be sitting here, delaying the inevitable. He wouldn't be scared for his life and running after a career he never even wanted to begin with. His throat constricted as an emotion close to regret threatened to take over. He swallowed. Kevin didn't do regrets. 

"So, who's that wonder man you talked about?" 

One gladiator had already made his entrance. The retiarius wore his typical attributes, including his trident and a net. The man hold his head up high, free from any helmet. He was a crowd's favorite, judging by their screams and fervent acclaim. Kevin tried to recognize a name in the noise, something like Ryder? Chris scooted closer to the edge of his chair. 

"You'll see soon enough." 

To be honest, Chris didn't know much more than Kevin about the new talent. He had heard something about a strange name, and that he came from a province. 

The crowd went silent when the second men entered the arena. As the natural opponent of a retiarius, the secutor wore a rounded helmet, with only two little holes for his eyes. He wore a manica on his right arm, and held a gladius in his right hand. His left side was covered by a tall, rectangular shield. 

"Not really impressive, if you ask me." 

Kevin huffed. The secutor was neither tall nor small, not particularly bulky or intimidating. He was plain. Normal. Nothing that stood out of the ordinary. 

After a salute addressed to the consul who had organized the games, the men began to circle each other. The secutor kept his distance, wary of the net, while the retiarius adjusted his grip on his trident. Both gladiators wore heavy pieces of armor, in particular the secutor, making their movements slower and calculated. Strangely, Kevin felt his attention drawn towards the secutor, even though they had yet to clash swords. The retiarius, Ryder, raised his hands up, demanding the crowd's support. He then taunted the secutor, making a mocking attempt with the trident. A chorus of woo's resonated in the theater, the crowd apparently knowing what Ryder had asked them to do. The secutor didn't react however. Light on his feet, he hopped left and right, waiting. 

After more seconds went by with neither of them taking action, Ryder decided to go for it. He plunged forward with his net, trident ready to strike. The secutor dived at the right moment, letting go of his shield and using Ryder's momentum, clashed his dagger on his arm. The robust manica of the retiarius didn't budge. Rolling through, the secutor got up on his feet, while Ryder shook his head after picking up his net. A murmur went through the crowd, realizing the fight wouldn't be so one-sided after all. Chris was nodding, mouthing 'you see?' to Kevin. 

After more futile attempts from Ryder, the secutor dashed away from the retiarius. He then bent over, picking at his feet protections. 'What is he doing?' and other similar questions rose up from the stands. The secutor threw the paddings away, revealing every day leather sandals. He started to unfasten his manica as well, when Ryder approached him. Running further away, the secutor finally removed his arm armor, flexing his muscles. Chris whistled. 

"This guy is nuts! What is he trying to do?" 

Kevin barely heard his friend, as his heart was thundering in his ears. Only an idiot would do something this stupid! Only a fool... 

"He's making himself lighter." 

He didn't know he had spoken. The words flew out of his mouth without his accord, eyes glued to the secutor. The man had only his helmet on, and a loincloth with his gladius attached. So bare. Ryder had caught up again with the secutor. This time, he went straight for blood as he launched his trident. Quick as a cat, the secutor dodged the projectile, and grabbing his dagger, nipped Ryder's ankles. The retiarius didn't fall down however, and made another attempt with his own gladius. The blade ripped on the secutor's helmet, who head butted Ryder. Dazed, but still standing, Ryder made a desperate move with his dagger. The secutor didn't hesitate and grabbed his stretched out arm, and brought the retiarius on the ground with a graceful arc in the air. He took Ryder's gladius, blade grazing his throat. 

The crowd was roaring, chanting even though they didn't know the name of the secutor who had made Ryder bow down at his feet. The consul held his hand high in the air, thumb inside his fist. No more blood would be spilled tonight. The secutor bowed, helmet still firm in place. Chris exhaled, face flushed from the exciting fight they had just witnessed. He turned towards Kevin. 

"Didn't I tell you? This guy's amazing!" 

Kevin didn't respond. He was still staring at where the secutor had bowed, even though the man had left the arena. His face was pale, his skin clammy to the touch as Chris grasped his shoulder. 

"Hey man, what happened? It looks like you've seen a ghost!" 

"I think I might have, Chris." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Retiarius: Gladiator with a net and a trident. No helmet. Often paired with a secutor. Name means 'net fighter'  
> Secutor: Heavily armored, armed with a gladius. Helmet and tall, rectangular shield. Often paired with a retiarius. Name means 'the pursuer'  
> Manica: Arm guard, larger on the retarius.  
> Gladius: Dagger, sword  
> The consul's gesture is probably what they used, instead of the thumbs up or down that we know from movies. A thumb inside the fist mimics a sword in its sheath, and thus not drawn. A thumb pointing out of the fist means a drawn sword, and signaled the death of the defeated gladiator. However, this scenario was rather rare, as good gladiators made a lot of money for themselves and their masters, and killing them would be a waste.


	3. Chapter 3

77 AD, ludus, Antioch

"You're stepping on my foot."

Kevin rolled his eyes. 

"Stop whining Sami. I'm not stepping on your foot." 

The two boys were huddled against a wooden panel, various holes and cracks making it possible to see through. It was their hidden place from where they could spy on the gladiators' training. 

"Yes you are!" As a proof, Kevin shuffled to the left, and Sami felt the weight lifting from his foot. Kevin shushed him.

"They're beginning!" 

Sami plastered himself on the panel, his gaze going almost crossed-eyed to see through the cracks. Kevin did the same. The gladiators were fighting each other in turn, repeating moves and sequences. For a while, nothing but grunts were heard, only interjected by the orders shouted from the supervisor. The two boys watched with envy, cataloguing everything they saw in their mind to act it out later. After a few more exercises, a water break was announced. Kevin looked thoughtful.

"I heard they are plans in Rome to build a giant amphitheater." 

Sami turned his head towards Kevin, eyes wide. 

"Yeah? Bigger than this one you think?" Kevin laughed. 

"Of course, dummie. This arena is nothing compared to the one dad told me about." 

Sami whistled, impressed.

"I can't even imagine how big it would be. How many people would fit in there! Imagine being there, acclaimed by everyone. Imagine us there, Kevin. Wouldn't that be a dream?" 

Kevin couldn't imagine it, no. Training in the sandlot by the house was one thing, but actually dreaming of being in a real arena? He almost scoffed. He is the son of a senator. His family name is known in the whole empire. Dropping everything that he's been offered at birth for becoming a fighter? Right. 

Sami was looking at him with his big hazel eyes, all twinkly and shit. Kevin knew Sami was serious about this. But how would he, a gangly redhead from Antioch, make it to the big leagues? Someone had to be a realist about this. And what if he got hurt? Kevin's mind stilled, imagining Sami in a puddle of blood for the whole arena to see. He gulped. However, Kevin hesitated to tell his friend the painful truth. Maybe letting him hope wasn't so bad.

"Sure. One day, maybe."

His tone was flat, and Sami picked up on it. He nodded, face turning serious.

"So...your dad's job is almost over, right?"

Sami was fidgeting with his tunica, his voice slightly louder than a whisper. Kevin frowned.

"Yeah, I guess. Five years he said, so one year left."

Oh. Kevin hadn't thought about this at all. But he would actually leave in about a year. Leave Sami. The ginger smiled.

"One year to make it the best of all five then. Promise you'll stay in contact with me?"

Kevin was lost in his head, the reality of things just hitting him like a hammer. 

"I promise."

*

90 AD, Domus Owensis, Rome

Kevin stumbled in his cubiculum, mind still processing what he had seen. He had been going to the games every day since Chris had showed up and taken him there. The consul had apparently decided to prolong his farewell show, the games spanning a week already. Each day, the crowd was louder, and bigger. Each day, the main event was more captivating and breathtaking. The secutor that had beat Ryder to everyone's shock had rapidly become the people's favorite. And yet, he still lacked a name. The crowd couldn't decide on one, and the secutor hadn't given any. He hadn't been even seen outside of the Coliseum. Rumors were spreading, taverns full of people whispering, inspecting any stranger coming in as if that person would turn out to be the popular gladiator.

Useless, if you asked Kevin. No one knew what the secutor looked like. He kept his helmet on at all times, even though he shed his armor as quickly as he could. Yesterday, he had even dared to show up with only his helmet and his gladius. His opponents were almost twice his size, but he outsmarted them every time, using an agility Kevin was sure he had seen before...

He was getting ready to face-plant on his bed when Bayley came in. She looked thoughtful.

"Chris came by earlier. He said that he talked to some senators but they wouldn't listen to him. He promised to try again."

Kevin grunted. Stupid senators and stupid consuls. He had already enough stuff on his mind, and the reminder of his future failure made him hide his face in his blanket. Bayley sighed, shuffling closer.

"Kevin, are you alright? You were gone the entire week, only coming home to sleep."

She licked her lips.

"I guess you go to the games, right? You were in an awful mood before, but now you seem more...defeated than anything. What's going on?"

Her tone was soft, caring in a way that Kevin hadn't heard in a long time. He couldn't possibly tell her what he was thinking, as he didn't know himself if he was going mad or not. Memories he had buried years ago had resurfaced during the first game, a ridiculous idea forming in his head when the secutor had started the fight. But it couldn't be. The last few days hadn't confirmed anything. They didn't make it less plausible, either.

"I'm fine. Just...tired."

He shook his head, trying to order his thoughts. He had to get a grip and stop chasing after phantoms of his former life. He had missives to send, damn it!

"I promise you Bayley. Tomorrow is the last time I'll go. I need to know something...But if I don't have the answer to my question, then I'll let it go. I need to focus on my career."

It was a promise to himself. This had to stop.

*  
90 AD, Coliseum, Rome

Kevin's heart was in his throat as the crowd began chanting. They still had no name to focus on, and yet they had managed to compose something only meant when the secutor entered the arena. This time, the anonymous gladiator would be facing another big name. Lashley. Kevin remembered him from his early years back in Rome. A machine, as strong as he was imposing. He had lost once in his career, but that was it. He only appeared for grand occasions, and apparently the consul had decided this was the perfect moment to bring Lashley back.

The thraex was pacing, waiting for the secutor. Kevin deduced Lashley had seen it all, after all, the intimidating gladiator had been doing this for almost twenty years. How the secutor would manage to overcome Lashley was a mystery for him, and probably the whole crowd. Finally, Lashley's hand gripped the curved sword tighter as the secutor made his entry. Kevin followed his movements, raking his brain to find the memories of a certain person's gait. The secutor moved in such a unique way...The clash of sica against gladius made him focus back on the battle, pushing his thoughts at the back of his mind. 

After the first blow successfully parried , the secutor had rolled back in his routine. Feet barely touching the sand, he hovered around the thraex. Lashley seemed unfazed, his gaze steady and evaluating. He had a small round shield in his other hand, completely out-proportioned as it covered nothing but his forearm. The gladiators studied each other for a long moment, neither one in a hurry to act.

Suddenly the thraex charged, forcing the other fighter to move on his left. Anticipating the move, Lashley threw his little shield in the secutor's direction, who had almost no time to lift his manica and endure the blow. Holding his guarded arm, the secutor lifted his helmet-clad head. Lashley had to be grinning under his helmet, the shiny griffin on top of it reflecting the sun that was beginning to descend. 

Kevin knew this battle wouldn't end like the others. Lashley was an entirely different opponent than the previous gladiators. Every time the secutor would try his tricks, the thraex managed to block them or use them at his advantage. The crowd was beginning to feel it too, whispers of uncertainty filling the arena. As time was stretching, the secutor lost his speed. He couldn't avoid Lashley anymore, reduced to use his gladius if he was to come out of it winning. Eventually, he ducked out too late of a charge by the thraex, the sica coming dangerously close to his ears. The curved blade scratched across his left shoulder though, a red line rapidly forming on his pale skin. 

Kevin felt the blow like it had sliced his shoulder as well, his blood turning cold.

The secutor lifted his dagger, wanting to strike too, but a heavy padded thigh struck him in the stomach. He fell to his knees, panting as he clutched his left arm which had not been cooperating since that first blow with the small shield. Lashley wasted no time. He brought the sica down on the other shoulder, fast and precise. The secutor howled in pain as his shoulder was cut open, blood spurting out of the ugly wound. The crowd went silent. 

Lashley moved back, waiting. The secutor tried to stand up, disoriented by the blood loss. He managed to get back on his feet, limbs paler than marble. The thraex shouted something, but Kevin wasn't hearing anything. He was barely functioning at all. Lashley shook his head, then began throwing punches. A particularly brutal shot to the secutor's head made him stumble, his back colliding with the ground. Gravel and dust rose up in the air, the arena stunned. The last punch had dislocated his helmet, knocking it off. A shiver went through the crowd, wide and eager eyes finally seeing who was under that helmet. Blood tainted the secutor's curls, who were also red, albeit a few shades lighter. His face was scrunched in pain, hands desperately grappling around in the sand. Kevin didn't need the secutor to open his eyes to know their color. His face had been etched in his mind for 15 years, and time hadn't erased the details of Kevin's former best friend. Lashley turned his back to Sami, grinning. The crowd awoke at once, begging the consul to let the secutor live. Kevin couldn't bear to see the consul's decision. He was already on his feet, pushing through the stands to the nearest exit. 

Once outside, Kevin took the time to breath. A loud approving applause erupted in the arena, making Kevin sigh in relief. His relief was short though, as he remembered Sami's slashed shoulders, his back bathing in blood. Kevin's hands trembled, his vision swimming as he tried to think. What could he do? He couldn't just barge in the Ludus Magnus and take Sami with him. If he was still alive. Kevin shook his head.

There was no need to worry, the people there knew how to treat wounds, he had no reason to panic. He made a step towards his way home when a thought occurred to him. What if Lashley decided he hadn't had his fill? What if he came back to the ludus to finish off Sami? The thraex had been unforgiving in the arena. Kevin closed his eyes. He knew what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thraex: Gladiator with thigh-lengths protections, a manica, a helmet with a griffin on top, a small round or square shield and a curved Thracian sword.  
> Sica: Curved Thracian sword.


	4. Chapter 4

*

78 AD, shore of Antioch

A light spring in his step, Sami walked through the outskirts of the city, enjoying the first rays of the sun on his face. Today, he and Kevin would go watch the gladiators again, and maybe start asking questions about a possible future at the ludus. Well, mostly Sami would ask, as Kevin still hadn't made his mind up yet. He would turn around eventually, Sami thought. Kevin was made for fighting. He was magnificent when they sparred, a passion, more like a fury roaring through his body when he tackled Sami to the ground, claiming victory. Sami felt his cheeks heat up, picturing the scene. He took a deep breath.

The house was still. Sami looked around, frowning. No one was strolling around in the garden, or enjoying the cool breeze of the morning. It seemed like nobody lived here anymore. Maybe the Owens were away on a day trip? He reached for the entrance, noticing that the name plate had been removed. 

"They're not here anymore, kid."

Sami turned around, startled by the voice. A man had walked from the main road towards the house, his face grave. 

"What do you mean?"

Sami dreaded the answer. His mind already knew it, but his heart wouldn't believe it. The man shrugged. 

"I saw them moving all their possessions and leave for the shore. I guess the Praetor's time was up!"

Sami was already running towards the beach, the wind sizzling past his ears. Maybe he could still be there on time, maybe he could say goodbye...His heart sank as he arrived. The ship was nothing but a dot on the horizon, blurring in the early rays of the sun. Traces of the embankment were still visible on the sand, seemingly mocking Sami. The boy kicked at them with his feet, shaking his head. The last time he had asked Kevin when he would leave, Kevin had told him he didn't know, but that Sami would be the first person he would tell. Another picture formed in Sami's mind, a memory from two days ago, the last time he saw Kevin in person. Another promise, whispered softly against his temple. Sami's heart broke again.

"He left. And he didn't tell me."

*

90 AD, Domus Jerichoensis, Rome

"What did you do?!"

"I panicked okay!"

Chris shook his head, hand holding the door as Kevin shuffled by, hindered by a unmoving body on his shoulder. He turned around slowly, letting the door fall shut. He had so many questions swarming in his head, the first one being who the fuck was this guy and why is he bleeding on my carpet?'. 

"Mind to help me?" 

Chris joined his friend, who was fussing around the injured man. He noted that Kevin's hands were shaking. Placing a calming hand on Kevin's shoulder, he pushed him back to see the damage. He whistled. Some rudimentary bandages around the shoulders were soaked through by blood, barely holding in place. The guy's face was littered in bruises, lips busted open and a nasty gash gushed blood on his forehead. Chris had seen worse in his time at the castra, but the injuries were serious, and the man risked an infection, if he didn't have one already. Sitting back on his heels, Chris looked at Kevin. His friend was trembling, eyes red and puffy, a haggard look on his face. A horrible thought formed in Chris' mind, he had to ask.

"Kevin, did you do this?"

Chris expected a fierce rebuttal, but what saw made him frown. Kevin shook his head, but his face told another story. His mouth was open but no words came out, his throat constricted by the guilt that had made its way through his entire body. Not waiting for a spoken answer, Chris got up and started to gather things he would need to patch up the guy properly. He returned with clean bandages and water, noticing that Kevin hadn't moved an inch, his gaze fixed on the injured man.

"We'll need to move him to the cot in the next room."  
   
Chris didn't want to aggravate the slashed shoulders, but he had to be moved eventually. Kevin nodded, still mute, and picked up the man with utmost care. Chris wondered if he was a member of the Owens' family he hadn't seen yet, someone important to his friend. He picked up the bandages and the jar of water and followed Kevin, placing everything next to the unconscious man. 

"We'll talk about this when I'm finished, Kev."

Kevin breathed heavily, hands gripping the blanket the guy was lying on. Chris smiled briefly, wanting to be reassuring, and began to tend to the mystery guest.

*

Chris had cleaned the wounds as best as he could. The guy was still unconscious, his forehead sweating as the fever started. Even if he didn't know the face, Chris knew this was the now famous secutor of the Coliseum; he recognized the pale limbs and the clothes. Next to him, Kevin had fallen asleep, dried tears blotching his cheeks. Chris decided to let him sleep, knowing he would be no help at the moment. He rinsed the linen cloth again and applied it to the gladiator's head. The waiting game had begun.

*

It took two days for the fever to settle. The man, Sami, was resting, wounds healing as well as they could. Chris was proud of his work, relieved that Kevin's friend seemed to recuperate rather quickly. He still didn't know much about the guy besides what Kevin had told him yesterday. Sami was a childhood friend from the Province of Syria, and they hadn't seen each other again since Kevin's departure. That still didn't explain how Sami had landed in Rome, and why Kevin had been desperate to kidnap him from the Ludus Magna. His friend was sitting next to the cot, looking at his hands. Chris had tried asking for more information, but Kevin had refused, retreating in solitude, even though he was right there. The former general esteemed he had a right to know why and how Sami had arrived in his house, soaking his atrium with blood. He was tired to be ignored by Kevin, who hadn't left his spot since yesterday.

"Kevin."

Kevin didn't answer, hands balling in fists and unclenching almost directly. Chris sighed, exasperated.

"Kevin, for the love of Gods, look at me!"

A whimper answered him, but not coming from Kevin. The secutor made another noise, his body twitching as he awakened. Kevin fell from his chair, knees hitting the tiles hard as he grasped Sami's hand in his, new tears glistening on his cheeks.

"Sami Sami Sami"

His voice was rough, repeating Sami's name like a mantra. The gladiator licked his lips, slowly realizing who was clinging to him. Sami blinked, the fog lifting from his eyes. He smiled a little. 

"Kevin? Is that really you?"

A sharp stab of pain made him groan. He remembered the fight, but not what happened after it, or how he had ended here. His left shoulder was burning, and he felt a headache coming. Kevin shushed him, picking up the wet rag to cool his forehead.

"Don't move ok? It's me."

Sami nodded briefly. He heard someone else clearing their throat. Turning his head a little, he saw another man in the room. Kevin followed his gaze.

"And this is Chris, he's the one who patched you up."

Sami bowed his head in a thankful gesture, his head heavy. He squeezed Kevin's hand.

" I heard your name a couple of times at the ludus, and sometimes I thought I saw you in the tribunes, but that was mostly wishful thinking on my part."

Kevin felt his face heating up at the admission. Sami looked at Chris.

"Please tell me, how bad is it? I need to know when I'll be able to fight again."

His voice was firm, unwavering. Kevin couldn't believe his ears. His other hand was already reaching out towards Sami, hesitating between slapping him for his stupidity or caressing his cheek for his never-ending fighting spirit. Kevin gripped the bed instead.

"What? Sami, no! You can't be serious!"

How could he even think about going back? Sami frowned.

"Why not? It's my job."

He stared at Kevin with fire in his eyes, a silent dare in the air. Kevin stood up, distraught.

"It won't be anymore if it gets you killed! Gods, Sami, don't try to justify this."

Sami followed his friend with his gaze, face closed. His tone was flat when he replied.

" I knew what I signed up for, you know that."

Kevin stopped his pacing. He huffed.

"I never agreed to you signing up with the ludus!"

He instantly knew this wasn't the right thing to say. Sami didn't hesitate to jump on the offering.

"Well, you never told me, now did you? And I do what I want Kev, I'm sorry my dream isn't good enough for you."

The silence that followed was horrible. Even Chris knew Sami had struck a deep chord. He looked at Kevin, who was even paler than when he had barged in with Sami. Kevin swallowed absently, images of the past mingling with the picture of Sami laying in his own blood burned on his eyelids. He fleetingly thought about injuring Sami for good, before paling at that thought, feeling sick to his stomach.

"I...I need some fresh air."

Chris shot him a worried look as he run outside, chest heaving and throat burning. How could he even think about that? Injuring his best friend as to not getting him killed? A reasonable sacrifice? Kevin shook his head. He had no right to tell his friend what to do. That ship had sailed when he had left without a simple goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castra: Roman military camp  
> Atrium: Central hall of the domus


End file.
